


Battle of the Titans

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 22:40:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14963540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: So many battles she'd fought on so many battlefields against so many adversaries.  Meghada had faced down Gestapo and Abwehr officers, had fought the Brass at HQ, gone toe to toe with mercenaries and rogue agents.  Hell, she'd even matched wits with the Lords and Ladies of society.  Never had she faced opponents like this, so powerful, so relentless, so determined to send her home with her head bowed in defeat!  Never had there been so much riding on the outcome of the battle, and never before had she gone into battle feeling so totally weaponless.  But really, what weapons could she possible have that would counter the ones in the hands of her current opponents - Goniff's Mum and Aunt Moll!





	Battle of the Titans

His Mum's letters talked of the time he'd be coming home. When, after the war, he'd come back to New York and get a job and perhaps take that nice apartment down the hall from her and Moll. His letters talked of the team and Garrison and Meghada; of the cottage and the garden; of the Mansion and the pub.

Her letters talked of the pretty little Madison girl, just right for him, they were all sure of it. His letters talked of Meghada and her dark red hair and warm smile, her fine way in the kitchen and the garden. 

Her letters talked of the young Miss Olsen who'd just moved in across the way, her pretty ways, her holding down a good job as a typist at a big firm downtown. His letters talked of Meghada and her talent for writing songs and stories, and her pretty voice, and her doing some work with the military. 

Her letters talked about all the nice people in the neighborhood, all the good friends he could make when he got back home and settled in. He talked about the guys, about Garrison; about how they'd become brothers, family, and how he hoped they could maybe stay together in some way after the war. 

Her letters talked of maybe seeing if that officer he worked with couldn't see his way to getting him some training for some special work with the military here in New York. She knew there were several installations right close around where he could use the subway to get back and forth to work. His letters talked about taking over The Doves, the local pub, after the war; about how it was where all the locals went, and all the day trippers too, and how it made a steady income, and, later, when the time came, told her how they'd gotten a good price for it, too, the first owner not wanting to take the damages with being so close to a military base, and the second one just wanting to move on. Told her about his name being on the paperwork, right along with Meghada's. 

She sent him a drawing of that little apartment down the hall, even to the electrical outlets, and sent him a list of local stores it was best to frequent, which ones best to avoid. Aunt Moll included a copy of the subway and bus system. He sent her a drawing of the Cottage, and the expansions they'd planned, with the garden and the wood lot and nut trees and all, along with a description of the village. Even marked on the drawing of the Cottage, in big letters 'Our Bedroom'. 

She sent him a furniture ad from a local department store with a long accompanying article, 'Setting Up Your New Apartment', saying she and Moll had enough pots and pans and dishes and such to give him a decent start. He just stared at the letter and let out a huge sigh of frustration. 

"Blimey, Craig. It's like she's not reading anything I'm saying! Just 'ow the ruddy 'ell am I supposed to get it across, I won't be coming back, cept for visits! This is 'ome now, this is where I want to be. Aint like I don't love 'er, miss 'er, miss the both of them; you know I do! And, I 'ave to admit, I don't want to say too much, the war not being over yet; well, anything could 'appen, we both know that. Still, it's ruddy frustrating!" 

Craig Garrison nodded in sympathy, "yes, it has to be. And, I imagine for her and your aunt as well. They've put a lot of time and thought into how they want the future to be, to what they think would make you happy, what would keep you close, " giving a wry grin at his team member, his friend, his lover, "what would keep you out of trouble?"

Goniff's annoyance changed to a slightly sheepish look, "yes, well, I can see all that, I can. But, it aint w'at I want, not anymore. I don't want to 'urt them, I love them both, but . . ."

Garrison just laid his hand on the slender blond's shoulder.

"Just be patient. We'll deal with it all when the time is right. Until then, just keep writing like you've been writing. Maybe part will sink in. But, Goniff," and he hesitated, looking down at the seated man, "while they may eventually accept about Meghada, about you staying here, about the Cottage, the pub? Maybe even about working with the team? Well, you know they won't understand about me. Don't push for that. There's no reason for them to know."

The answer he got was one he'd expected, a frustrated, almost angry look, "I don't like that; it aint right, acting like I'm ashamed of you."

"I know, but for right now, let's work on the easier parts - you, staying here in England. You and the pub. You and Meghada. You and the rest of the team forming up to work together. Later, maybe, well, we'll see."

And reluctantly Goniff agreed. 

He admitted to himself, if they were taking it in steps, they might never get to that step anyway. Hell, might never get past the first one or two considering that last letter he'd got from Aunt Moll.

"Rodney, stop teasing your poor Mum about staying over there. You know you don't mean it and it just upsets her. Now, about that apartment, it's not overly large, not big enough for a family, but it'll do til you and a certain little miss need to see about getting something bigger for when the wee ones start coming along. Although that smaller bedroom would make an adorable nursery for the first one, maybe two." ** 

It took til their first visit to New York, eight months after the war was over to get his mother and his aunt to start accepting maybe he just wasn't coming back to New York to live. It had been a long eight months. 

He sent her a letter rejoicing the war was over, lamenting he had another six months to serve. Told about preparations in the village for those who hopefully would be coming home, about him and Meghada planning a celebration at the pub for Nellie when George, her soldier husband returned home. Told her of Josie and Jake deciding to make a match of it. He told her of their plans to increase the kitchen garden at the Cottage so to be prepared for the time he and the guys were released from duty. 

She sent him a letter telling him of a job opening up at the end of the month at Barkens Pawn and Repair, if he could talk the military into letting him come home early. She was sure they would be reasonable. She said she knew the owner and he was willing to give her Rodney a good salary and a percentage of profits on special deals, and overlook his little mishap with the legal system. 

He sent her a letter advising her that 1) the military wasn't likely to do any such thing, them not being known for being particularly reasonable, 2) he wasn't coming back to live in New York anyway, 3) he had a job waiting, at least one, maybe two, between the pub and the 'consulting business' Craig Garrison was hoping to put in place.

He also warned her that Barkens Pawn and Repair sounded like a pop shop, dealing in stolen goods, that being what those 'special deals' would be all about, and the reason Barkens would most likely be willing to overlook his record would be 1) the owner probably had one himself, or would have if he'd ever been caught, 2) his having a record would likely appeal to Barkens in order to have a fall guy should anything go wrong with any of the deals. He told her he was hopeful the guys could bring together that plan for a special 'consulting' business; it looked like there would be a fair amount of demand for that once things settled down some. 

His Aunt Moll sent him a letter scolding him for saying such unkind things about that nice Mr. Barkens, and with him having such an unfortunate thing happen to him and all. That Mr. Barkens had hurt himself quite badly. It seems in addition to the pawn and repair shop he'd been also holding down a job as a part time moving man "such an industrious and hardworking man!" and must have wrenched something dreadfully bad; had to close the shop because there was no one to run it, and if Rodney had just listened to his mum, well, maybe Mr. Barkens would have left him in charge til he got better. Just think, three full years to get himself established, the doctors saying that's how long poor Mr. Barkens would take in returning. And wasn't it wonderful just how precise the medical men had gotten, to time it that closely. 

Goniff read the letter again, shook his head, went and got a cup of coffee and read it again. The coffee hadn't helped one bit; he still felt like someone had poured treacle over his brain. He handed it over to Casino who read it and started laughing like a hyena.

"She really thinks that's where Barkens is spending the next three years? In bed recovering from 'wrenching something'? She doesn't get he's in the slam doing a three-spot?? Goniff, you sure she's your aunt? She don't know a moving man is a fence? How did you keep the two of them in the dark all that time? Hell, man, you fenced stolen antiques yourself, along with a few other little sidelines!" 

Goniff grimaced, "you know 'ow it is, Casino. They're family. You wear a mask in front of them; won't do them any good to see you when you know they won't like what they see, will just worry and fret."

Casino frowned, perplexed at all this, knowing Goniff had spent various spells in jail and prison in England, and the States and possibly elsewhere.

"And those little vacations behind bars?"

That got a sigh and a shrug, "short ones were visiting a friend, maybe a little business trip, a stay down in one of the gambling places seeing if I didn't 'ave a spot of luck. Got em used to the fact that I just didn't write 'ome when I was away; well, that prison postmark would tell the tale, wouldn't it now."

Casino just stared in disbelief. Hell, more than a few of his family was in the business, one way or the other, and even the ones that weren't KNEW about it. He spared a thought for having to hide who you were even from your own family, for not having any letters to read or sending any for fear they'd find out, and felt a twinge of pity. Sometimes he thought Goniff put too much into that mother-henning thing he did, at too high a cost to himself. 

"That six years I was headed for in Sing Sing, well, they found out about that, but they knew the truth of it."

Casino snorted, "which was? Oh, let me guess," and they said it in unison, "I was framed!" They shared a rueful laugh.

Casino gave him a sympathetic look, "they still not getting the message, bout you staying here with the Dragon?"

"No, and I don't know what to say to convince them."

"Well, don't worry about it; you just keep sending them the letters; sooner or later, when you dont show up, you know, maybe ten, twenty years down the line, they'll maybe wise up."

That got him an exceedingly wry look, "you don't know the pair of them, mate! Wouldn't bet on it!"

Casino kept to himself the thought that Goniff had gone to all that cover-up and mask shit for nothing; this pair, didn't seem likely they'd have caught on too easily even if he'd been fencing those antiques outta their own apartment! 

They'd scheduled this trip for the first time they felt reasonably safe in venturing back to the States. Garrison had put out feelers, enough to be reasonably sure there were no hidden military traps. Well, there shouldn't be. He'd been decommissioned, yes, with a General Discharge, barely missing the Dishonorable they'd hinted at, but that had been reversed after the Grandmother had had her little temper tantrum, had officially resigned, now had his Honorable Discharge; the guys had their pardons, full pardons, not just paroles, also due to the Grandmother.

But they'd all had enough experience in dealing with the military powers-that-be to be a little cautious; they'd made enough enemies during their tour, certainly. Meghada had done the same, checked her sources; she also had put a few other pieces in motion, so that if there were any unpleasant little surprises she'd have a few surprises of her own waiting. She was carrying certified copies of all their paperwork just in case; she had a strong streak of pessimism too, based on both training and experience. Surely she had all the bases covered. 

They were all nervous, but not in equal amounts.

Casino would be seeing his family for the first time in several years, but there were few secrets involved, so his was more excitement than nervousness really. He'd kept up a steady correspondence, was up on all the weddings and births and deaths, his family knew all about his checkered history, and were accepting, if not totally thrilled, of his decision to stay in England and work with that new 'consulting firm' his former wartime leader would be heading up. They'd seemed happy that he was happy, and he didn't expect anything except good times during his visit. Oh, there was having to deal with his asshole of a cousin Louie, but he'd never had any problem getting that louse to pack it in and didn't figure he would now. 

Goniff was scared stiff, and didn't make any bones about it. He didn't want to hurt his mum or Aunt Moll's feelings, but he just knew they'd be pressing him again about coming 'home'. He worried about them meeting Meghada, about Meghada meeting them, and about Craig, too, but not as much, since he'd decided Craig had been right about not leveling with the two about him, about his place in that Cottage.

He'd worried about slipping on that, but Meghada said with all of the guys living in and working out of the expanded Cottage, if he mentioned something about telling Craig something at breakfast or something like that, there was a good explanation.

"I mean, it's not likely you'll be blurting out anything really delicate over the tea cups, is it?, something there couldn't be a reasonable explanation for?"

He was a little worried about running into some old acquaintances too, those with long memories; there was one guy in particular, Mickey Kelly, Goniff had offended by refusing to snitch some papers for. Wasn't that Goniff had any objections to the snitching part of the deal; he could have handled it easily enough. No, he'd just had a feeling Mickey was setting him up to be the patsy for the whole job Mickey and his brother had in play. When the deal went sour because of the fingers they'd used, Mickey blamed Goniff and made some threats. He finally confided that to his traveling companions, just so they'd know to be wary. They assured him they would be, and they'd handle any trouble together. 

Meghada wasn't sure what she was feeling, or maybe she just didn't want to admit it; it was a little embarrassing for a Dragon to say she was scared stiff, but she sort of thought that wasn't far from the mark. She had met diplomats, generals, conversed easily with the various members of high society, Lords and Ladies, a goodly number of the nobility; she'd interacted with guerilla leaders, bandits, Gestapo officers, and hardened fighters from Special Forces. She'd mingled with writers and performers and headliners from the stage. And she had never had this kind of reaction.

Now, here she was, dithering like an idiot, wondering if anyone would be bothered if she just let out a long shrill scream, just to clear her head! 

She was trying to sort through her clothes and was having a hard time deciding on what would make the right impression, not that she knew what she was aiming for in the first place, and surely that didn't make the process any easier! She'd gone through this three times now, and the small stacks of clothes - Yes, No, Maybe - just kept getting shifted around. She was pretty sure the latest selections in the Yes stack were the same as the first time around, so either that meant they were really good choices, or that she was losing her mind, and she'd not lay odds on either right now.

"Craig, what'll I wear? When I meet them for the first time, I mean. What'll I say? What if they don't like me? What if they really, really hate me?" she fretted.

The tall green eyed blond sitting on the arm of the chair reassured her with a grin, "don't worry, Meghada, they probably won't hate you. We're only going to be there three days; it would probably take longer than that for them to go from first meeting to outright hate, even with you. Dislike you? Maybe. Probably. After all, you stole their innocent little boy, their baby, and now you won't give him back." The thought that Meghada was just barely into her twenties, Goniff a good twelve years older made him grin at his description.

She hit him firmly in the head with a pillow from the bed. "Thank you so much! That was ever so helpful!" she fumed, running her fingers through her long hair, getting them snared in her braid, squealing in frustration. 

Goniff scolded from the doorway, "she's right, Craig. That really 'elped; she's already nervous as a cat! Get 'er any more rattled, she'll likely back out and I aint going back there without 'er, without the two of you. Too much of a coward for that! You don't know them; love em both, I do, want to see them something fierce, but they can tie you in so many knots you'll never get free. You'd 'ave to get the team together and come break me out, just like one of those missions we went on!"

Lynn had been listening to all of that with some amusement, hearing the usually very much in control Meghada fussing around like that, not far from panic, but she did sympathize. There were times she was relieved she didn't have to go through this process with Actor, though, of course, with her it was a trade off with the meeting of the multitudes of old (elegant, rich, beautiful, numerous) girlfriends. Well, Meghada probably had some of that to look forward to as well, no matter how much Goniff protested to the contrary; still, that was easier to deal with. There were all kinds of options there, mild to firm to outright nasty. Adored mothers and beloved aunts? Not so much. 

Now she spoke up. "Look, hon, stop getting so worked up. It's only three days; you'll all be staying at the hotel so it's not like it's three days straight even. You know you already decided it would be good to give the three of them some alone time, that means you already have some built-in breaks to go do some deep breathing if necessary. Craig has set up a couple of meetings with potential clients while you're there, so if it gets too tense all around, he can make out it is necessary for the two of you, maybe even all three of you to go to the meetings. Hell, you can even invent some meetings if it comes to that! That way, you and Goniff can hightail it back to the hotel and decompress til it's time to meet up again."

"When you come down to it, it's really only a few hours max. How much could go wrong in just a few hours, in New York City, visiting two nice ladies? Now, stop fussing with those clothes. Yes, those will do just fine, like I told you the first time you selected them. Not so fancy as to seem you're showing off, not so casual as to show disrespect for the importance of this first time meeting them. Skirts not too short, tops not too low. No trousers, too modern and too, too wicked."

They all laughed at that, since both women spent as much time in trousers as not.

"No bronze or copper or black, too dramatic. No white; it's not really your best color, not alone anyway, and makes a statement you really don't want to make. No bright red, for the same reasons. Stick with the colors that show you to best advantage but not terribly out of the ordinary. Only things that have enough in common you only have to pack one pair of shoes, carry one purse, so that leaves either the blues or the browns, and the browns suit you a shade better. The chocolate slubbed silk in case you need something really dressy, those two shirtwaists - the russet pinstripe and that dotted brown and white for the days, same nice brown leather pumps for all three, the layered brown and russet outfit for travel. That little silky robe, it'll fold down to nothing, you could use it for a nightdress if you decided to get all formal. One small pouch for the odds and ends. You'll be fine, and all in only one bag!"

She looked at her brother, frowning at the sight, "and you, are you having jitters too?"

"Me?" He swallowed big and put on that confident military demeanor that stood him in good stead. "Of course not. Why would I be having any jitters?"

His face went from confident to increasingly flustered, "I'm just flying back to possible risky territory, possibly where we're walking into a military trap, possibly to meet a vengeful Mickey Kelly and his brother, accompanied by a not-so-reformed safecracker and second story man cum pickpocket, along with a highly volatile Dragon. I'm going to be walking through the streets of New York with my two loves, a state, mind you, where having one of those two loves is just as illegal as it is in England, and I'm not too sure how they'd feel about the other either since we're not married. I'm going to be meeting two good women intent on protecting their innocent little lamb from the big bad man who wants to drag him into some dubious 'consulting business' where he could get into trouble again, AND from the bad, probably outright wicked woman who has seduced their baby and stolen him from them. Jitters? Why would you think I'd be having jitters?"

"Oh, I don't know, big brother. Maybe because you keep trying to light the wrong end of that cigarette?" and the resultant laughter broke the tension. Lynn plucked that misused cigarette away from his lips and tosssed it into the ashtray. Yes, she was feeling rather lucky with just dealing with Actor's old girlfriends. Much easier on the nerves! 

The first leg of the trip went well; oh, Goniff got a little airsick, but that was par for the course, and that herb pouch Meghada slipped him helped a lot. Getting to the hotel, checking in, three separate rooms for appearances sake - no problem. After that, things got a lot stickier. 

They'd decided Goniff needed to see them alone that first time; it had been so long, it was expected there would be tears, lots of them, all around, and the women wouldn't need the distraction of trying to play hostess. So Meghada stayed at the hotel, Craig drove Goniff to the apartment, walked him up (them keeping in mind those potential 'old acquaintances), said his brief smiling 'pleased to meet you's', reminded Goniff that 'we'll be back in time to take you all out to tea at the hotel', and left.

Yes, there were tears, and hugs, and one talking over the other and more hugs. Then his mum suggested he call his 'friends' and tell them he'd decided just to have a quiet tea with his mum and his Aunt Moll; she was sure they wouldn't mind, probably had all sorts of other things they needed to get done. Perhaps they might enjoy a little time alone anyway, this Mr. Garrison and that strange woman with the odd name, what was it now?

Goniff closed his eyes tightly and scrunched up his face, {"now just 'ow long did that take? W'at, 'alf an 'our?"} He checked his watch and sighed, {"No, more like twenty minutes."}

He gently informed them that the tea was already arranged, that Craig and Meghada would be by at 3:30 sharp to collect them; the hotel was expecting them at 4:15 sharp. That Craig and Meghada had no particular need or desire for a little time alone. That he was looking forward to them meeting his Meghada; she was a wonder, she was; still couldn't believe sometimes how lucky he'd been to find her, that they were together. That he was sure they'd love her as much as he did. He wasn't sure how much of an impact that all had since they didn't respond to any of it, just kept nattering on. 

Craig and Meghada arrived, smiling, came in to get Meghada introduced around. Goniff was proud of her, she was at her most polite, dignified, and quietly friendly best, looked just as she should, though in a slightly different fashion than usual, hair softer yet still prim in that loose coiled braid around her head, soft russet shirtwaist flattering her hair and complexion and figure quite nicely. She wore the collar, not a lot of it showing at the neckline of the dress but some; they'd debated, and decided yes, she would, but Craig would not. For Goniff, the wristbands were fitted under his shirt sleeve so unless he rolled the sleeves up or took off his shirt, no one would likely notice.

He smiled eagerly at his mum, his Aunt Moll, waiting to see how pleased and impressed they were with his 'Gaida; he winced a little when he realized that wasn't what he was seeing in their faces. And over the next half hour, he watched as the three talked to different purposes, him trying to smooth things over, but obviously not succeeding.

Garrison didn't even try, figuring there was nothing he could say that would help. Battle lines had been drawn and established. And if he'd learned nothing else from his time in the military, it was that getting in the middle of the cross-fire just wasn't smart. 

The tea and pastries were excellent, the hotel staff smiling and courteous and accommodating; everyone polite, smiling, making pleasant, if superficial conversation. They were just getting up from the table to make the trip back home when Aunt Moll dropped her bombshell, "we'll have us a lovely catching up when we get back, Rodney, and then oh, luvie, we've such a nice dinner planned, just the three of us, one of your favorite meals too!"

Well, that had been somewhat expected, and Craig and Meghada had already determined to have dinner elsewhere if it happened. What hadn't been expected was his mum saying in a coy voice, "well, not just the three of us, of course. That lovely Miss Madison and Miss Olsen we told you about are also coming; they are just dying to meet you, us having told them so much about you. They have their share of attention from the gentlemen, of course, but both were most pleased to have the opportunity to meet such an eligible and personable young man as you, Rodney. So it'll be five total. Well, that's pretty well all that table holds anyway. Now, Miss Madison, she has light brown hair cut in a bob though very nice of course, but Miss Olsen has really lovely blond hair, much the same as yours. Such pretty grandchildren I could look forward to; you were such a pretty baby, you know, all those blond curls." 

It was probably a good thing that Goniff only had eyes for his mum, his own eyes wide with shock and then panic.

Garrison had frozen, {"I didn't believe it, but he was right! We just may have to get the team to get him back out of here!"}

Meghada felt like she'd just swallowed a frog and got it stuck halfway down. She kept her eyes on her pocketbook, searching for that hotel key, unnecessarily of course, but there was no way she was going to look at anyone right now; she wasn't sure what her eyes might show, but it couldn't be anything good. She could feel the flush heating her cheeks and knew that was something she couldn't hide.

"Why don't you go ahead along then, laddie, start with that catching up; I know your mother said she had found those old photo albums and wanted to go through them with you. Craig has those calls he needs to make; you can call back here when you're ready for him to pick you up after dinner."

He protested, 'but 'Gaida . . ."

"No, love, you need to enjoy your time with your mother and your aunt while you can; we're only here for these three days before we head home, you know. I'll use the time to get some writing done, you know I've fallen behind with all we've had going on at home," and her voice was quietly serene, her eyes reflecting much the same, but with just a tinge of firmness underneath.

She shook hands with the two women as they parted, and the determination, the dismissal in the two older women's faces, well, it would have daunted anyone not equally determined. She let just a little of that determination show in her own face and she was pretty sure they picked up on it. 

She headed upstairs, for a hot bath, her music pad and pencils, and a good stiff drink. While she was running the bath she took the precaution of calling Room Service. She just wasn't sure that bottle of bourbon they'd ordered when they got here, right before they'd left the room, was going to last for very long; she held it up disapprovingly as she broke the seal - it seemed a rather small bottle, though it hadn't seemed so when the waiter had delivered it.

When Craig finished the dropping off, and then his meeting, he headed back to the hotel. A brief tap, a known signal, and he heard a slightly husky, "come on it, Craig. It's unlocked."

He frowned at that a little, but knew she could pretty well take care of any stray intruder. He wasn't so sure of that when he saw her, though, sitting crosslegged in the middle of the bed in that silky robe, leaning up against the headboard, head tilted back, eyelids lowered so he could get only a glimpse of those dangerously flickering gold-brown eyes.

She took another sip from the glass in her hand, "want a drink?" He looked over to the bourbon bottle on the bedside table, sighing to see it was half empty.

"You sure there's enough for me?" he asked sternly, with a reproving shake of his head.

"Oh, I think so. Though you might want to call Room Service and order another bottle, just in case."

He started to reach for the phone and then stopped, reached down into the waste can sitting beside the bed, pulled out one very empty bourbon bottle, cap and seal beside it. He took another look at the half empty one, "no, maybe we'll just wait til tomorrow for that," shaking his head again, this time in knowing sympathy, as he poured out his own drink.

She didn't get hangovers, at least he'd never known her to, but she didn't usually overindulge either. And this, well, he wasn't even sure overindulge was the right word for what she was doing. He wondered if ordering food, getting her to eat something, whether that would be a good thing or a disaster in the making. 

The call came from Goniff earlier than they'd expected, and his voice sounded more than a little strange. They both went in the car to fetch him, Craig going up to gather him in, her waiting in the car. He didn't say much when he crawled in next to her, just put his arm around her waist and snugged her in tight, letting her rest her head against shoulder, raising his brows at Craig at the strong smell of bourbon. Garrison just rolled his eyes and shrugged.

Goniff didn't say much that night either, not in words, though certainly in other ways, and the singing was sweet, even if it was just the two of them, Craig leaving for his own room after a quiet drink together. That drink had finished the bottle, and Goniff had started to make a funny comment, but stopped when Craig shook his head, then motioned toward that waste can. Goniff's eyes grew huge as he realized she'd gone through most of two bottles of high-proof bourbon since he'd left her after that disaster of a tea. He'd known she was upset, had every right to be; still . . . 

Craig stared at the ceiling from that comfortable bed in his quiet room. They'd agreed they needed to play it quiet and smart for this trip, and though they missed the closeness of the three of them being together, they kept to the bargain. Still, it took him a long time to get to sleep. 

It was morning, during a shared breakfast for three in Meghada's room, (and no she hadn't had a hangover, a fact both the men thought was quite unfair) that he told them about the late afternoon and evening.

"A ruddy nightmare, it was. Oh, the pictures and all, I liked that, and we talked some about the good times, and it was good to look up and see their faces, to 'ear their voices again. But, every chance they 'ad, it was nibbling away at me about coming back, about getting a nice 'safe' job, about taking that nice apartment, about finding a nice girl and settling down!"

He didn't mention that little bit about them being ever so 'nice' about Meghada, how it had been nice to meet the nice people he had once worked with, though "someone probably needs to give her a hint on how to dress more to her advantage, choose better colors and styles that suit her figure better," and "I'm not sure that hairstyle is quite right for her; perhaps she'd look better if she got it cut short, do you think? And, while I wouldn't ordinarily suggest changing the color of one's hair, in her case . . .", and not to mention the innocent, "she and that Mr. Garrison might make a nice couple; they seem to get along quite well. Though he seems a rather brash sort, likely to lead people astray, perhaps unknowingly."

The totally bewildered comment by his Aunt Moll, "I can't understand what she's thinking, wearing that dreadful necklace in public! Perhaps I should just tip her the wink, Rodney. Perhaps she got it in her travels during the war; you said she managed to find herself in some very strange places for a nice young woman. Perhaps it might be a nice souvenir, but not something she really should be wearing in public; people might get the wrong idea, you know, think she's not quite nice!" had him flushing, and he came close to pulling up his sleeve, showing at least that first wristband and explaining just what that wristband and necklace really meant.

But then it was time for dinner, the knock at the door heralded the arrival of the two young women who'd been invited to meet him, and the moment passed; he took a deep breath, put a smile on his face, and determined to be pleasant over what looked like a very long evening. If he never heard the word 'nice' again, he would be more than pleased. 

It was only toward the end of dinner, just when his mum brought out that really beautiful cherry stollen, that it all hit the fan. The cordial conversation between Miss Madison and Miss Olsen had gotten just a little strained, as they debated the benefits and shortcomings of that apartment down the hall. Miss Madison thought it a bit small for two, and Miss Olsen thought it would be 'ever so cozy' if arranged right. Miss Olsen thought the rent a bit high for the space, Miss Madison pointing out that with two incomes, it would be quite affordable. They queried him as to whether he preferred colors or neutrals in wall coverings, what style of furniture did he think would be best, did he prefer an easy chair and ottoman or a recliner. Was he one for an early supper or a later one? Was it chicken or fish he preferred for a nice Sunday meal?

He listened, appalled, {"it's like it's bloody well decided, all except for which one of them gets to take me 'ome! Like I'm some little dog or something! W'at are they going to do, flip a ruddy coin??!"}

He looked in appeal to his mum, his Aunt Moll, only to see them smiling proudly at him. {"Like they're ever so pleased with themselves, me 'ere, two of them there, all settled cept for the details. Like my 'Gaida aint waiting for me back at the 'otel right now."} 

He thought of Meghada, those two bottles of bourbon, her steady resolve that he get his time with his Mum and his Aunt Moll, that slightly lost look in her eye when he'd left her, and his lips firmed, right along with his chin, and his pale blue eyes got just a little icy before he slid that 'slightly clumsy, slightly clueless, totally innocent' mask onto his face. The one Meghada called his 'trying to mimic the village simpleton' mask, though she loved it still and it made her smile, and almost always resulted in her getting all soft and warm and . . . And that just brought his mind back to her waiting for him in that hotel room while he was here being shown off like a numbered lot waiting to go up for auction at Sotheby's.

He smiled vacuously, "well, all that sounds grand, the apartment and all. You'd enjoy sharing it, and be able to well afford it, what with you both 'olding down such good jobs and all. Don't think it'd be too cramped from the drawings Mum sent, but if you decided it was after you'd lived there for awhile, you could always look for something a bit bigger, couldn't you? And as for colors and furniture and the like, why don't one of you choose the colors, and let the other pick the rest?"

The looks he got from all four women he memorized, {"Craig and 'Gaida will be sorry to 'ave missed it! Think my IQ just dropped a good 'undred points in their eyes just then! Probably 'eard the thud three floors down."} He hurried on, not letting anyone get a word out, not that it looked like they could do that til they closed their mouths which were pretty uniformly hanging open. As far as he was concerned, they might as well keep them hanging, save them some effort. 

"Now, we knew, my girl and me, that's my 'Gaida, the cottage was going to be too small once we moved in together, especially with us wanting room for the guys to 'ave their own space. Couldn't do that til after the military was through with me, acourse, but we went ahead with the building on, taking in the next two cottages over, joining them all together, filling in the mid-spots too, adding on to the end, getting it all ready. A big job, it was too, but real nice it is now, lots of room for us at one end, and the team at the other, library, office, workrooms all in the center. Room for all 'er books, her music, piano, the big 'arp and the smaller ones, the guitars and such, 'er desk, cabinets, all that took a lot of space in itself."

"Well, only makes sense; it's not just what she's collected, uses for research and such, she needs the room for 'er own work. Writes music and songs, she does, some for singers, some for those musical plays they show on stage; 'er uncle is in that line a work and she does a good bit for 'im; got something coming up real soon 'ere in New York, on Broadway from what I understand with some of 'er stuff in it, maybe another following right along. Just finished a book that looks like it's going to do nicely too; a real nice way with words, my 'Gaida, ever so smart she is."

"Anyway, we put in a bigger pantry, and a big storeroom, a summer kitchen; said she was tired of 'eating up the whole cottage when she's doing the canning and cooking; we keep expanding the garden and the nut orchard, and we get meat and turkeys and such from her family's farms, and she puts up a right good amount for winter as well as keeping us fed as it comes. She's a dab 'and in the kitchen, she truly is! Well, with the two of us and Craig and Lynn and the rest of the guys, that's lots of mouths to feed on a regular basis. Room right in the middle for a big office for Craig to run the business out of; that makes it right 'andy." 

He got an inspiration, something he got often enough to make the rest of the team groan; any of them would have recognized the flicker in his blue eyes and flinched in anticipation.

"And the nursery, acourse."

He watched from under his eyelashes at the start, the gasps that little tidbit received.

"Just finished that we did, well, not quite, but almost, right before we came over 'ere. We'll finish the rest when we get back, moving in the furniture, 'anging the pictures, putting down the rugs and all; wanted to get the trip in now while she could still travel in comfort. Me and Chiefy did the painting in there, the smell a the paint making her queasy, but she picked the color. Said a nice pale clear yellow would work best, us not knowing yet, acourse. Says it's easy to 'accent', and will suit even when the babe's older. Well, we can add in some pink or blue come April, though there's nothing wrong with just sticking with the yellow. It's a nice color too, w'at she chose, not washed out but not glary either."

"She's 'oping for a boy, says 'e'll probably 'ave my 'air and eyes and smile; said she'd be right pleased with that. Now, me, I'd not mind a girl; the females in 'er family all 'ave that dark red 'air and it would be a treat, seeing a little tike running around looking just like 'er, all those soft curls and pretty eyes and sweet smile. 'Aven't decided 'ow many, but thinking three or four at least. She'd be a good mum, could 'andle that many along with all the rest; she's ever so smart.""

"Did I mention, we own the pub, her and me? 'Ave since a year before the war ended, though we 'ired managers for it then. Now we both work in there some, though we have others to 'elp, acourse, especially when I'm on a job with the guys and she's in the middle of a fierce bit of writing, or trying to bring in the garden." 

That bright smile of his was wonderful in its total innocence, it fading only slightly to include some bewilderment as the two young women pursed their lips, crumpled their napkins and dropped them to the table, made their tight lipped goodbyes, expressing their gratitude for the meal, the opportunity to meet the man they'd heard so much about. It was obvious from their expression they didn't think they'd heard quite enough, though; that they'd not have attended this little dinner if they HAD heard more!

After they'd left, after the pastry had been eaten, dishes cleared away, all in silence, he sat the two women down resolutely, and told them one last little bit, showing them that first wristband, "same as a wedding ring it is, and that collar of 'ers matching it. Said vows and everything besides. Now, Mum, Aunt Moll, we're only 'ere for two more days, really more like a day and a 'alf; I'd like to spend it peacefully with you; aint likely we'll make trips so very often, you know. I love you both, you know that. But no more of w'at you pulled tonight, no more of talking bad bout my 'Gaida, no pecking at 'er, nor Craig neither. Aint like you'll be living on top of each other, don't see any reason you can't get along for as much time as you'll spend together."

Their eyes were wide as they looked at him, this precious boy of theirs, their baby, at the mature sternness in his face and voice, looked at each other and swallowed deeply. "Is she really . . ." and that more than smug smile gave them their answer.

"A baby," his mum whispered, and then a smile started to grow, "did you hear that, Moll? I'm going to be a grandmum," and Moll's face had its own smile, "and me a great aunt; need to find my knitting needles and some wool first thing. Did you say yellow? Well, a bright cheery color that is for a little one. Though perhaps a touch of green, or maybe turquoise to accent. That would be nice, I think, and Cafferly's holding a sale on their yarns til Saturday!" 

Meghada just sat there, staring at him.

"You told them WHAT? Goniff! What happens when April comes, hmm?"

He sat back, complacent smile on his face, "now, see, that's the beauty of it all. We'll be there, they'll be 'ere. We send them letters, keep them up with all the news, they'll never know."

"And when they start asking to come visit to see this baby, or ask us to bring the baby for a visit? Asking for pictures??? We can only put them off for so long!"

"Well, we can always borrow one, can't we?" was the calm response as Goniff reached for another slice of toast, and Craig choked on his coffee.

Meghada's face was priceless, her voice at least an octave higher than usual, steadily climbing even higher, "borrow one??! Like a cup of sugar, you mean? Did one of your old acquaintances catch up with you and lambast you across your 'pretty blond curls'? You don't go around borrowing babies!"

He didn't know why she wasn't seeing the beauty of his plan, it was really all so simple.

"Don't know why not; we'll just make out they're all girls, since I already told them the girls in your family all 'ave that red 'air of yours. A bit of a disappointment to Mum, accourse, 'er thinking of a boy, but she'll be accepting of it."

Her eyes stretched even farther, "ALL?"

"Well, told them we were thinking of three, maybe four all told. You know how to plan it out, 'Gaida, just like any other con. You just keep a little book of when they're expected, when you're apt to be complaining about w'at, so's you can include it in the letters, 'ow old they'd be at any time, w'at names we decided on, and we just borrow what we need from your family when we need them. Bound to be some close enough to pass."

Craig had to leave the table he was laughing so hard at the look of sheer disbelief on Meghada's face, and the look of pure self-satisfaction at his own brilliance on Goniff's. {"I can't wait til the others hear about this, particularly Casino! He'll roar!"} 

The next day was much more pleasurable than the first one, if perhaps awkward in other ways. Meghada was welcomed with open arms, a hot cup of tea, and the kind admonishment to "come sit my dear, mustn't be on your feet too much you know. Now, you're not trying to keep your weight down, are you? I know there are some of these doctors who don't believe a woman should gain weight but how can that be healthy, tell me that? You should be showing a nice little pufff by now!"

She glanced down at her front, {"he said he told them April; it's only mid-October, that's a full six months away, a little more even. It's a good thing we aren't going to be here long; they'd probably have me on bed rest by another two weeks,"} she thought to herself.

Aunt Moll, and yes, Meghada had been urged to call her exactly that, was inquiring whether it was toward the first of April or the last, she didn't remember what dear Rodney had told them. Well, 'dear Rodney' hadn't told HER either, so "well, we're not sure, of course. The women of my family tend to be a bit erratic in that way, sometimes a little early, sometimes a bit past; and with it being the first one, well, that always changes the equation, doesn't it? And dear Rodney keeps shifting the date around, the dear sweet man, depending on whether he's anxious and excited in which case it's earlier, or anxious and nervous, in which case it's set back, you know," that getting an understanding chuckle from the two women.

She was offered more tea and toast awhile later, but declined, citing the meeting they were headed to, all three of them, but they'd be back and would like to bring back lunch if there was a place the ladies liked? She was directed to Sheldon's Deli, given their preferences, and made her way with the two men, them now being told to 'take good care of our little mother now,' her being admonished to 'not fret yourself with nasty old business, dear; it's important to keep a calm mind and think of pleasant things.'

She waited til they were back in the car to hit the both of them; they hadn't waited nearly that long to start laughing.

"Now, now, little mother; we must be careful to keep a calm mind and think of pleasant things, you know."

Somehow that snarly hiss didn't seem all that calm and pleasant, but it was certainly their Dragon, as was the sharp clip upside the head they each received. 

The meeting went fine, another new client signed up, details of the disappearance from that private gallery, any other information, a description of the art work given and recorded in that little book she carried, the small photograph tucked right along side.

They had just gotten out of the car around the corner from the Deli when Goniff's old acquaintances made their presence known. That meeting, if you want to call it that, went much quicker than the first, though no new contract made. As the three visitors eased back onto the sidewalk, out of that alleyway, Goniff took a glance behind at the huge trash dumpster.

"Always thought that was a good place for Mickey and his brothers actually."

He gave a sly grin at Garrison, "remember, that first trip out. W'at did you call us, a bunch of common garbage can 'oods?" Garrison huffed at him for bringing that up.

"Let's go pick up that food and get back to your ladies, Goniff. And I want two sandwiches, Ruebens with everything on them, and chips, and one of those huge dill pickles; maybe cole slaw or potato salad too; no, make it both!. I'm starving! Must be because I'm eating for two now!" and they laughed with her, though they were surprised to find she wasn't kidding about her order.

Later, as they were putting the food on the table, Moll asked the men, "now you took good care of her, didn't you? Not let her exert herself, not get too excited?" and she received their joint assurances that they'd been very careful. Garrison had a hard time keeping a grin off his face, remembering Mickey, being tripped into that wall, and then taken down with that roll of coins she had tucked up into her fist.

{"But, we were telling the truth. Didn't look to me like she exerted herself much, and was totally calm, no excitement in her face at all, just general annoyance."}

It was a little surprising when she didn't let Goniff steal any of her lunch, but steadily devoured it all, complimenting the ladies on their selection for a source of lunch. The two women beamed at her indulgently, and when Goniff whined, they snapped at him, "there are crackers in the tin if you are still hungry! Leave her alone, she needs her nourishment!"

He and Craig just looked at each other in astonishment. 

They ran into the Misses Madison and Olsen in the hallway, and any awkwardness somehow changed to a rather remarkable ease due to the efforts of Meghada; she was well inclined to be charitable now the danger was past. The evening hours in the apartment turned musical with Miss Madison, 'oh, just call me Lizzie', bringing her guitar, and Miss Olsen, 'Marguerite, but my friends call me Mags', turning out to have a pleasing soprano voice, delicate and not shrill. Between all of them, they knew tons of songs, Magheda adding some of her own, borrowing Lizzie's guitar for a spell, and the evening was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone. Craig had managed some nice wine and pastries and even some savories he knew would please Meghada better, Goniff warm and relaxed now he had the two of them, his two loves beside him, his mum and aunt beaming in genial approval at his Meghada.

As they left to return to their own tiny apartments one across the hall, the other one floor above, Mags smiled to Lizzie, "that was ever so nice. You know, I don't know why the ladies thought they wouldn't like her; she's charming and you can tell they just adore each other. And they didn't say, but I bet that nice Craig Garrison is her brother or cousin or something; they seemed ever so close, all three of them."

"Well, Miss Moll says Rodney and Mr. Garrison fought together during the war, and that's bound to draw people closer; well, it must, them deciding to keep on working and even living together now. Night, Mags." 

The next morning was breakfast in Meghada's hotel room, Craig and Goniff having gone to pick up the ladies earlier. It was a quiet time, and pleasant, but the women all too aware that their Rodney would be leaving soon.

It was during one of the times the men had headed back to Goniff's room (totally unused, but necessary for the proper cover) to get the special gifts they'd brought, that the question was asked, low and hesitantly, "you will take proper care of our boy, won't you?"

Then, in an even lower voice, "you do love him, as he ought to be?" And both women were satisfied, no even more than satisfied by the honest warmth in the eyes and the voice of the redhaired woman they'd fought against so hard.

"Aye, I'll take proper care of him. And, aye, I love him, with all that is in me, as I always have, as I always will. From the very first, you know. Thank you for trusting me with him."

And the men were back, the gifts given and smiles and laughs, even though Craig Garrison was surely going to question Goniff on the origins of that little enameled snuffbox that played such a pretty tune! It looked far too familiar! And there was common accord, and promises to write, and promises to not let this be the only visit.

And soon it was time to depart for the airport, there to meet up with Casino. And Garrison was right, Casino absolutely roared!

"Now, ya gotta be sure to let me know about the birthdays, okay? I'll have to make a special effort to get just the right pretend birthday present for each of my pretend nieces or nephews. Ya think we have room at the cottage for a pretend pony? They each gonna have their own bedroom or are they gonna share? Yer gonna name one after me, aren't cha, buddy?"

Meghada finally had to threaten to gag him to get him to shut up, and even then, they'd hear a sleepy chuckle from his seat and know he was thinking about that pretend pony. 

However, none of that was necessary, the little notebook, the con, the borrowing of children, as it was less than a month later that the Ballantines returned to Brandonshire, and then the news came from Doc Riley. Then with the babe coming at the middle of May, well, they hadn't even had to fudge that birth date so very much. Grandmum and Great Aunt Moll were grinning all over themselves, eagerly sharing the news far and wide of the new arrival, young Randall Craig.

"Rodney says our little Randy has his smile and blond hair and same slight build, less than five pounds even at a little past full term, though quite healthy, but says there's a goodly bit of Meghada in him as well. Says he has her temper, for sure, but that seems rather an odd thing to say; we never noticed any temper in her at all; a lovely girl in all respects, just what we would have wanted for our darling boy! Green eyes, though, not blue; a bit disappointing; Rodney has such lovely blue eyes, you know; but he says it's not uncommon on the other side of the family. Well, it would be, I suppose, all that red hair she has and all, even though her own eyes are that pretty amber color. A lovely boy, I'm sure! I'll show you the pictures as soon as they arrive. I wonder when they'll start thinking of a baby sister; wouldn't that be sweet?" 

One of the tidbits in a letter from New York was that Lizzie and Mags had decided 'dear Rodney's' advice was sound. They each gave up their own cubbyhole studio apartment and went together to rent that bigger one everyone had been pitching to Goniff. They had Aunt Moll enclose a letter with the one the older women were sending. 

"Dear Megheda. We do hope all is going well for you and Rodney. From what Mrs. Grainger tells us, it would certainly appear it is."

"We are so sorry for any annoyance or discomfort we might have caused; we truly did not understand, and never would have done anything so abominably rude if we had. The sharing of the apartment is working out quite well, and we want to thank Rodney for giving us the idea. In thinking back, it is amazing that it never even occured to us before, but it truly hadn't. The rent is considerably less that the rents for our previous apartments were together, so we have a bit more left over at the end of the month and are able to afford a few luxuries."

"We splurged on tickets to that new musical that just opened (the cheap seats, of course), and were amazed and thrilled to hear one of the songs you played and sang that evening in Mrs. Grainger's apartment. I know Rodney said you wrote music for such, but actually hearing it, well, that was remarkable, knowing we had had the privilege of hearing it before anyone in the audience, and by the writer herself, and all without having any idea!" 

"Anyway, we moved in and it wasn't such a chore, still being in the same building and all, though me on the floor above. The landlord let us use the freight elevator and the moving dolly for a small price and that made things ever so much easier. Our furniture fit, with a bit of thought and arranging, once we cut the legs down on Mag's couch so it wouldn't stand above mine like a stork, (much like I do her) though we did invest in fabric to make new slipcovers so all the pieces go together much better, and curtains and rugs that brought the whole of it into balance."

"We remembered what your Rodney said about your nursery, and that seemed so pleasant, so the whole apartment now is a lovely pale clear yellow, with accents that we can change at our pleasure. White would be nice, but with all the city smog, not too practical. But we picked materials in a solid black that really snaps for the colder months, and have a willow green that is ever so springlike, with some cushions in hot pink to use for both. We tossed a coin for the larger bedroom, and Mags won."

"The whole apartment is snug and cozy. So snug and cozy we thought we might have a bit of a problem should we want to invite someone in, you know, before or after a date, for a drink or something? We made all kinds of elaborate schemes of how to handle that, spent a great deal of time and effort on that, thinking of places the other might 'hide out' for whatever time was required, from tea rooms to coffee houses to the library, but when we sat down and discussed it over pizza the other night, we were both surprised to realize neither of us has accepted a date since we moved in together, and were amazed and a bit amused that we haven't missed it one little bit. We find we are quite comfortable, just the two of us. I have my guitar, Mags sings and tolerates my less than admirable attempts at singing, we read aloud, listen to the radio or the phonograph, do puzzles together; we laugh, we share a bottle of wine, and cook meals together, and we find it more pleasurable than any date we could either of us remember." 

"The apartment seems amazingly warm and homelike, even in the blizzard we are having outside. We have just this weekend converted the smaller of the two bedrooms, the one that had been mine, into a library and music room; it was rather a wasted space once we took stock. The extra furniture has been taken to pieces and stored in the basement. We spent part of this afternoon putting all the books and photographs and other things up on the new shelves we had put in, that making the other rooms less cluttered. The janitor took care of installing the shelves, along with the special shelf and hooks for my guitar and the small harp I found that I'm wanting to see if I can learn to play. We have our eye out for just a tiny spinnet piano that Mags has the inclination to try after hearing about yours."

"My, our thanks to you and your Rodney, and to your Mr. Garrison, too. We find his influence and example has helped us in our new joint venture as well, far more than he may realize, with his kindness and discretion. We hope to do as well with our joint venture as you obviously are doing with yours. And, of course, congratulations on young Randy. I am sure he is a joy to you all. My older sister is having a baby in a few months; she is not sure she will be able to deal with one more with her Jeffrey gone, and we are considering just what the options might be. Mags does have such maternal instincts, you know. Life seems so amazingly rich nowadays. Our thanks. Lizzie and Mags." 

Craig and Goniff read the letter through the second time.

"Am I reading that right, ducks? Are they . . . ".

Meghada grinned at them, "well, that's how I'm reading it. Though I'm surprised they picked up on anything from you, Craig. I thought you handled everything perfectly."

Goniff just got that sly grin on his face, "some things are 'arder to 'ide than others, you know. Seems love is one a them."

And that was hardly something any of the three could deny.


End file.
